I Won't Let Go
by Harry Albus Potter Dumbledore
Summary: "Wayne residence," an alert voice answered. "Alfred?" His voice sounded strange to him, small and timid. "Alfred…it's me, Dick!" He heard a startling gasp on the other line. "Master Dick, is that really you? Are you okay? Where are you? Master Bruce has been out of his mind worried about you. You have been gone for over three weeks now!" Dark, but Hurt/Comfort fic.
1. Chapter 1: The Escape

**A/N: Hello, my dear readers. Some of you might recognized this story of mine because I'd posted it on this site and Ao3 in the past. I regrettably took it down because life was getting in my way at the time and I felt the pressure to update constantly. I hated leaving you all in the dark, waiting for a new chapter, but at the time, I was in college. But now I'm out of college and have (unfortunately) become a working girl. But enough about me.**

 **Note/Warning: As much as I would like to give you a new chapter on a weekly basis, I can't successfully manage that schedule. I can't tell you when I will update, but I can tell you that there will be some waiting involved between updates. Sorry, but I have to have a job to support myself. I don't have the whole story worked out so I can't list all the warnings that might be read in this tale, but I can list that this story will be dark, violent, possibly graphic, torture, abusive (physical and sexual among others) possibly cussing, self-harm, and who knows what else. Please don't read this story if any of this makes you uncomfortable. And no flames either as they will burn up in my spam folder.**

 **Dedication: This story is dedicated to the wonderful and talented** Doll Girl **, who wrote a similar story called,** "Robin's Flight." **Thank you for the inspiration and I hope my story will turn out as fantastic as yours.**

 **Disclaimed: I don't own anything involving the Batman 66 tv show. Though, I do own a copy of all of the episodes.**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 **The Escape**

 **Wednesday, February 2, 1966 2:42 AM**

 **Plasterville, 52.2 miles south of Gotham City**

On an icy, winter night in a city almost as large as Gotham, laid a small figure. The creature was curled up in a loose ball behind some old, stack up crates and piles of trash in an alley. Acquiring a closer glimpse at the individual, it's was obvious that whoever he or she was (as it was difficult to identify the gender at this time) that the being was freezing by the shaking and shivering that traveled the length of its form.

It was no surprise that he or she was bitter cold as the person (who was semi-unconscious) desperately tried to huddle up in a tighter ball to keep warm, whimpering softly in pain from the action. Currently, it was the dead of night and towards the tail-ends of winter; but despite the season almost being over, the temperature was barely above freezing. Furthermore, despite the make-shift wall surrounding the small body, it didn't fully prevent the strong gust of wintry air to bite into his tattered, dirty clothes and lacerated skin. The ripped and grime covered garments, a brightly-colored uniform of some kind, was awfully unsuitable for its environment and weather. Indeed, the holes and tears seen throughout the strange attired was not doing its job to starved off the chilly air and sickness the person would undoubtedly receive soon.

The creature did happen to have a small, light green blanket covering its frame. But the material wasn't succeeding in aiding him or her the badly needed warmth because of how horribly frayed and ragged the thing was. In fact, the fabric was so useless that it was easy to notice through the shredded blanket that the person was unattractively scrawny and injured.

When another strong blast of arctic air made it's way quickly towards the physique, the individual shook violently, grasped the worthless cloth that shouldn't be called a blanket, and slowly rolled over. Due to the movement, the creature's grimaced face finally came into view and the gender was at last known, turning out to be a boy around his mid-teens. In addition to the now recognized gender of the figure came the registering fact that the sight of the kid's features was as horrible as the fabrics covering the body.

The countenance, while handsome and masculine, was heavily bruised and discolored. In particular, the teenager had a red and swollen left eye that wouldn't close completely while the other one was surrounded with a deep black color. Teeth marks were indented deeply into the flesh of his bottom lip, which was also split as well. There were trails of dried and crusted blood on his chin, possibly coming from his lip as the result of the cut or biting down too hard. But that wasn't the only area seen with the crimson fluid; there was some caked on under and around his nose, on both cheeks and forehead. A result of a bloody proboscis, and several large gashes and cuts that adored various parts of his visage. In addition to those were some very colorful bruises that managed to partly hide the discomfort the boy was experiencing.

His mug was unclean and all the lacerations were in various stages of infections due to the bacteria that had slipped in. Lastly, his sable hair was disheveled and stringy, covered in filth and matted with blood, sweat, and grease from lack of bathing.

Obviously from the boy's appearance and odor, he hasn't had a bath in a very long time and had been in some kind of hell for a few weeks now. Whoever he had been with previously hasn't treated him right and chose instead to neglect and abandon him. But despite all of this, the kid was relatively in one piece with some injuries and filth covering his form. Even with the dirt and grime on his outfit, the particles couldn't completely hide the black circle behind the bold yellow, letter block 'R' in the center on the upper, left chest area.

Another gust of wind swept over the sidekick, causing his physique to quiver like a vibrating toy. Due to the unwanted movement the icy-cold air caused, it achingly jarred the teen's bones and joints, hitting several painful bruises, and igniting a gradual throbbing pain in various parts of his frame. In turn, the hurting sensation and frigid air forced the hero into full consciousness, bring an aching soreness that slowly turned into a sharp, unbearable torture when it greeted him as he sluggishly woke up from his unrestful sleep.

* * *

 **Robin/Dick's Point of View**

 **Alley 2:47 A.M**

A quiet groan of agony escaped between his lips as Robin's eyes began to flutter a few times before gradually opening them. But as soon as the adolescent opened his eyes, he had to close them to block out the blinding (in his opinion) light of the moon that was shining above him. To the Boy Wonder, it felt like the beam was stabbing him multiple times in the eyes with a sharp knife, and the piercing pain he was feeling coupled with the brightness of the moon threatened to unload what little water and food he had in his stomach.

The youngster kept his eyes shut for a few minutes, hoping that once he opened them they would quickly adjusted to the bright illumination and dark night, while avoiding the unpleasant sensation of having his eyeball speared out of his head. While Robin waited, he listened to the sound of his breathing, which was short and wheezing; an awful sound to his frozen ears. Furthermore, the task of trying to breathe or even to regulate it to a normal rhythm, turned out to be a struggle because of the painful sensation coursing through his body.

Trembling, the teenager pulled the light green material that barely covered half of his small built, closer to him; the temperature of the wind dropping down a few more degrees. He also tried to figure out his current surroundings and how he ended up laying on a cold, unforgivable ground as small rocks dug smartingly through his clothing and into his flesh. The Boy Wonder shifted his form a little, hoping to dislodge the oddly-shaped stones from his back. Immediately, he had to bite down on his wounded lip so he wouldn't scream out from the sheer agony that rushed through his lower half as his eyes snapped opened in shock.

 _It's hurts,_ Robin thought, allowing himself to cry out in his head. Honestly, he didn't know why he had to keep quiet right now, but his instincts told him that it was very important that he do so. The teen's instincts had never let him down in the past and he didn't think they would start now, so he obeyed and kept the whimpering to a low volume. _Holy moly, does it hurt! Why does it feel like I'm on fire here!_

It was true…every part of the crimefighter felt like he was engulfed in flames as they licked their way along his flesh, leaving a burning trail in their destructive wake. Everything hurts. Both internal and external. From the tip of Robin's toes to the top of his head. But the areas that felt like they were the most heavily ablaze was his bottom and privates.

 _But why is that?_ He wondered as he stared down at himself, disoriented and confused. The Boy Wonder experienced a jolt of shock when he discovered the front of his red vest was ripped to shreds and wide open like his dark green t-shirt. Also, his dark green trunks and flesh-colored tights were wrapped tightly below his knees, streaks of crimson blood on the majority of the cloths. Suddenly, like a hard slap to the face, the horrific memories slammed into him like a charging opponent as the adversary crashed into him.

* * *

 **Memories**

 _Joker, knocking Batman unconscious after a fight with the clown and his minions, capturing and kidnapping me, knocking_ me _out by spaying a light mist of chloroform from a slim can. Waking up in the villain's hideout, stupidly thinking I was still in Gotham City, being chain like a dog to the wall, the many conversations I exchanged with the crazy clown, the laughs and taunts._

 _Multiple times it was drilled into my head that the Cape Crusader, my mentor and father, wasn't come for me, being reminded daily when the evil clown would mention the new day on the calendar. The excruciating torture, Joker pressing his painted red mouth against mine, gripping my back tightly in his gloved-covered hands, being held down by his cronies as bare palms slowly traveled up my vest, tearing it and my shirt opening at the collar. Burning pain erupting down below and in my head as I was roughly shoved towards the floor, the chilly, hard concrete biting into my flesh. Trying to struggle out of their clutches, the sharp punches and kicks slamming forcefully into my frame, scratching and screaming. Oh, God! Being r-raped several times a day by the Crown Prince of Crime, his four accomplices, and_ her.

 _Wishing fervently for the tormenting agony to end, wanting to die just for the hellish nightmare to be over, the pictures and videos they took during those 'sessions.' Ripping off my mask...finding out my true identity, threatening me by announcing all to the world who was the person behind the Boy Wonder's mask if I didn't cooperate and obeyed his orders._

 **End of Memories**

* * *

 _They raped me,_ Robin who was now Dick mused, appalled and repulsive as he glanced at his ankles, still bound tightly in handcuffs and chains. The thought suddenly popped into his head, but the crimefighter knew it was absolutely true. Dick didn't need the lack of clothing on him as proof of the heinous crime, the burning soreness and crimson fluid he felt in his rear and around his privates was evidence enough. Also, the hero was missing his mask, making the discovery when he couldn't see the black fabric, which was usually placed over his features. In fact, he even confirmed it by reaching up with his right hand and touching the area around his eyes; nothing but bare skin.

 _But then,_ the sidekick wondered, still baffle and dazed, but quickly becoming clear-headed and alert as he observed his surroundings, _why am I out here? Where am I? Did I escaped or did Joker and his followers abandoned me?_ _Are they aware that I'm missing yet? Are they searching for me if I did, in fact, escape?_

As Dick once again looked down at his feet, more of his memories came flying back to him, and his crystal blue eyes widen in recollection on his maskless face. He remembered now.

* * *

 **Flashback**

 _Two of the crazy clown's accomplices had just finished one of their 'special sessions' with him and were pulling up their underwear and pants, straighten out their outfits, and fixing their messy hair in an attempt to appear more presentable. They didn't worry about the Boy Wonder, who was no longer a boy now, escaping as he laid unmoving on the concrete floor. The teenager had made a few attempts for freedom in the past, but none of them were successful, which was obvious since he was still in their evil clutches. Joker would have 'punished' him longer and harder in their 'sessions' whenever he would make a bid for freedom._

 _Now whenever it was time to 'play' or be 'punished' since that is usually when their sessions would begin, Robin would just take the abuse, too weary and weak now to put up much of a fight against his kidnappers. In the past when the abuse was just starting, the teen would try his hardest to fight his way out, struggling in his tight bonds and their grips, kicking and clawing like a wild animal at any one who got too close to him. Rocking and twisting his figure in rapid motions to get their slimy, hot hands off of him._

 _But the adolescent's 'reward' for fighting against them were several, hard punches and pointed kicks to his already injured physique, and a promise for a longer session that stopped him. When their prisoner was back under their control, two men restrained the bright-colored bird by pinning down his legs, allowing their boss to cuff his ankles together._

 _Robin also didn't 'sing out' or say anything during the abuse. Instead, he would zone out and go to his happy place, remembering good memories he has had in the past with Bruce, Aunt Harriet, and Alfred. After an hour or so, he would come back to his dark reality and find himself once again chained tightly to the wall, hands cuff high above his head._

 _But the aftermath of this session was a little different. Like previous times, the crimefighter escaped from what was happening in the present and heading to his safe place. However, instead of coming back to the present after the atrocious deed was done, Dick unfortunately (or fortunately, depends on your view on upcoming events) returned to life just as the man behind him emptied his load inside of him; the woman in front of him soon following her colleague a minute later. Disgusted by what the pair had done to him as well as ashamed that he was allowing these terrible acts to continue, (he was a hero, after all. This shouldn't have been happening to him, of all things) Dick started the process of leaving the outside world for his safe haven. What made him stop and come back to the real world was a call from a man with dirty, chestnut hair standing by the doorframe, informing his associates that the boss wanted to speak with all of them, and to hurry it up because the guy was getting impatient waiting for their playtime to be over._

 _So to save time and not make the Crown Prince of Crime even madder than he already was, the greasy, blond-haired man, who joined in the fun with the unattractive, red-haired woman, only bound the bird loosely to a gray pipe slightly above waist level before the trio left the room._

 **End of Flashback**

* * *

After that, the memories were fuzzy in some parts. Dick recalled successfully slipping out of the metal handcuffs and having the idea to try escaping once more, figuring that this might be his only chance to do so. Because sooner or later, the villain and his pals would eventually kill him so they wouldn't have a witness testifying to the wicked crimes they had committing.

The next part was where the memories began to get fuzzy. The sidekick didn't have the recollection of escaping. He only remembered feeling a great deal of excruciating pain throughout his body that threatened to force him into an unconscious state, while trying to fight the battle of not losing the contents in his sore abdomen. Also, Dick recalled thinking that he had to hurry and get somewhere safe – despite his ankles still being cuffed and chained together – and hide; hoping that the criminals wouldn't find him and bring him back to that hellhole. He didn't know how he did it or how long it took, but the teenager somehow managed to get outside the clown's hideout and hide in a small gap in the alley. Furthermore, there was some garbage and old crates blocking the teen's sight in front of him and a dirty, stone wall beside him. Just before Dick passed out from the sheer agony he was experiencing, he heard shouts of alarm and obscenities being thrown into the air nearby before several pounding footsteps ran into the alley, racing passed his hiding spot into the street ahead. The last thing the hero remembered before his eyes close for an uncertain amount of hours, he desperately wished in his head that they wouldn't find him while holding him breath until he couldn't hear them anymore.

Then Dick's unforgettable blue eyes shut for good.

* * *

 **A/N: Please give me your thoughts, opinions, or even some helpful feedback on this chapter. I will take anything helpful into consideration in order to improve my writing and myself as a writer. This chapter is unbeta right now.**


	2. Chapter 2: Coming Up with a Plan

**Hello, my wonderful readers. I'm here to bring you an early Christmas present which just so happens to be a new chapter. I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Note/Warning: I don't believe anything is too graphic in this story to warrant a warning. However, I would like to mention that Dick's random and repetition thoughts are intentional and part of the story I wish to tell. Also, Dick will obviously be out of character since this type of 'attack' had never been shown on the TV series. Oh, one last thing, I have change the timeline around a little, changing Dick's age slightly. I don't think the change will affect the story much.**

 **Disclaimed: I don't own anything involving the Batman 66 tv show. Though, I do own a copy of all of the episodes.**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

 **Coming Up with a Plan**

 **Wednesday, February 2, 1966 2:50 A.M**

 **Alley in Unknown City**

 **Dick's Point of View**

The sidekick breath caught in his throat before he bit down on his lip. As he looked around rapidly in his hiding spot, he was able to hear the nocturnal sounds being created in the distance. He laid frozen in his spot, wondering if Joker and his gang of criminals were still out there looking for him. Shivering violently, Dick waited a few minutes, straining his hearing as far as humanly possible for any sounds of a person coming into the alley. Yet he only heard the sounds of night. They were gone, he was positive of that.

 _What time is it?_ Dick wondered to himself, knowing full well that his questions would go unanswered. _How long has it been since I been out here? Moreover, how long was I unconscious?_

Shaking so hard, his teeth were chattering, (actually, they probably were already from the cold) the teenager tried to reach down and pull his green trunks and flesh-colored tights up, but his bare and injured hands shook too much. Instead, he brought one of his hands to cover his mouth, preventing the scream that wanted to be unleased from his throat while the other hand shifted his legs a little closer to his shaking form. He couldn't really curl up in a tight ball like he wanted because his throbbing body was already screaming at him, so to prevent any more pain from occurring, he stayed in the same position that he'd found himself in earlier.

 _Okay, Dick, think,_ he ordered himself, the replaying of being rape threatening to paralyze him. _Stop, you need to focus! You need to come up with a plan. You can't stay here any longer or you will freeze to death. Think…I have to think. Rape! I was raped! Come on, focus! What is my situation right now? What do I need to do?_

 _Check yourself,_ the teen instructed a minute later. _You need to check your health status and assess if anything is broken._

So given the task of self-examination, he began with his head. _Okay, pounding headache; possible concussion; left black eye; nose broken, never been set correctly; split and cut lip, still bleeding; and bruises all over my face. What else? My neck is burnt; right shoulder dislocated; ribs either broken, sprained, or bruised; lacerations all over my back and possibly 60% of body, not to mention more bruises. Umm, broken right arm and an unset left arm; rope burns on both wrists; a broken left hand and another unset right hand; three dislocated fingers, two on right and one on left; and four crack knuckles, two on right and two on left. Is there anything else I'm missing? Oh yeah, open knife wound on left leg that is infected and bleeding; possible tearing in anus and penis; a torn ligament in left knee, abrasions on knees and legs; a fracture right ankle; rope burns on ankles; and infected abrasions and lacerations._

 _Not to mention,_ Dick added, _that I'm very cold. Hypothermia and frost bite are possibly settling in as we speak. I'm malnourished, sleep deprived, dehydrated, and I haven't bathed or used a toilet in weeks. Actually, it's amazing that I'm still alive with all the injuries that I found on myself. Possibly a miracle if I can walk out of here and survive all of this as well._

Compelling his hands to work, the crimefighter carefully shifted from his lying position on the dirty ground, his physique shaky and burning with pain as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting pose. Once the teenager was certain he wouldn't fall backwards and no one could see him in his hiding spot, he carefully pulled up his trunks and tights, his modesty once more retained. Then he shifted himself over to the stone wall beside him, hissing softly at the sheering pain that shot up from his lower regions when he began to move. Several seconds later and a short distance, he leaned heavily against the wall, even more exhausted and breathless than he was earlier.

 _Okay, Dick. Here is your next priority. You need to get help. You need to get away from here. You need to get to Batman. You have to see a doctor…and get t-t-treated._

The thought of allowing a physician to touch him… _there_ , even if that person was just trying to help him, caused Dick's face to drain of what little color and blood he had left while his stomach revolted in protest. He wrapped his unset left arm around his middle, tilt slightly to his right, and that was when the bile came spewing out of his mouth. As this was happening, his body was spasming wildly from expelling what was left of his stomach's contents, which ignited white, hot sparks of agony to shoot off around his throbbing ribs.

After five long minutes of puking and another five for dry heaving, the hero slid back into an upright position and rested heavily against the bumpy wall behind him, still gasping for breath. His figure continued to shake violently as his teeth chattered loudly in his mouth. Despite the frigid air, the sidekick's forehead was covered in a river of sweat from the physical exertion he'd powerlessly participated in. Furthermore, the front of his brown hair dripped with the salty liquid because unfortunately, the long strands fell in his face while he was sick.

Taking a quick glance at himself, Dick groaned when he realized he wasn't quite successful in keeping the vomit off him and his brightly-colored uniform because his front and lap was cover in a small puddle of it. Not to mention, some of the putrid fluid was still falling from his chin. Disgusted, he quickly and easily tore the light green cloth he had in his possession in half, placing one half beside him and away from the mess while mopping himself as best as he could with the other. When he was finished, the teen tossed the soil cloth as far away from his location as he was able to, feeling slightly better now that he'd cleaned himself up a little. Of course, the job wasn't perfect since he didn't have a bottle of water on him to wipe off the rest, but at least he didn't have to worry about the hot fluid seeping through his uniform now. Though, he really wished he had something to washed out the taste in his mouth. Grabbing a hot shower and a new set of clothes wouldn't be bad either.

Another powerful tremor rocked his form, bringing him back to the situation at hand. "Think," Dick said quietly, afraid that he might be overheard by either friend or foe, which he preferred not to happen. He didn't think he could handle any one in close proximity of him when he was in such a fragile state right now. But it didn't really matter how loud the hero spoke because his voice was weak and raw from screaming constantly while he was in the hands of his enemies. Nevertheless, he was still in danger of being captured again so he had to be extremely mindful of the volume he utilized whenever he spoke.

 _I'm alone here; with no knowledge of where I am nor the name of the city I am in,_ Dick thought as he wiped the perspiration off his sweaty forehead with his cut-up and rock-embedded hands. _I need to get help. I need to get in contact with someone who can help me. But how? Think, Dick. They took my belt, which had my Bat radio in one of the pockets and my homing transmitter was on the buckle. They searched me all over…_ he cut the thought off, shuddering in repulsion as he remembered how they searched him that had tipped him off that something more appalling was going to eventually take place.

 _They took all the devices I had on my person that would have helped me in getting free and enabled me to communicate with someone outside of Joker's group,_ he continued with his thoughts. _The first part is take care of, but I have nothing on me that would alert someone that I need help. I can't trust any stranger right now, no matter if they are good or bad, and I'm in no fit state to travel for a long distance, much less walked a few steps._

The crimefighter processed this information before grabbing the other half of the green fabric. With a few minor adjustments, he was soon able to wrap the item around his head before tying the ends together, using the threadbare cloth as a makeshift mask to hide his identity. Darkness was upon him with no one in sight, but he was still dressed as Robin and couldn't take the chance of accidently running into someone without something to hide his identity. The risk was too high for such a careless mistake, even if it was pitch-black out and in the middle of the night. He remembered Batman lecturing several times in the past how important it was to keep their civilian identities a secret, no matter what situation they were in or where they were. So he wasn't going to start being careless now despite being injured and alone.

When Dick was sure the makeshift mask was tightly secure on his face and he was able to see through the rips alright, he then tried to stand up; wincing in pain which almost brought him to his bruised and scraped up knees from the intensity. His painful grips on a large gap in the old wall prevented the collapse, allowing him to stay upright on shaky, bloodstained legs. However, when the young man put his full weight onto his right ankle and knee, he immediately regretted the action for licks of excruciating agony once again surged through him. Because of this, he almost met the earthy ground for the second time in a matter of minutes, but managed to stop his fall with his tight hold on the wall. Barely though.

Every inch of the sidekick felt very weak and drained from the simple act of getting to his feet. He absolutely couldn't walk or, Dick looked down at his throbbing right leg, limped such a great distance in his condition. But he had to leave his hiding spot. He had to find something, anything that would help him to get in touch with someone. A person that he could absolutely trust to take care of him when he wasn't able to right now. He just had to hope that a phone was nearby where he could call for help or else he was in trouble.

 _But who do I call if I find a phone?_ He wondered to himself, panicking when his mind went blank suddenly as he limped forward. _Gotham Police? No. Don't want to involve them yet. They will have to be told sooner or later but not right now. If not the Gotham City Police Department, then who? Wait!_ Dick silently exclaimed, wishing he could slap his forehead for being such an idiot yet knowing the self-inflicted action would do is cause him some unnecessary pain. _Batman! How could I forget Batman? He can help me! He'll know what to do and I trust him with my life. I need Batman._

A longing for his guardian, his family overcame him with such intensity and suddenness that it startled him. Dick hobbled a few more steps, slowly making his way closer to the mouth of the alley. When he finally reached the opening, he turned panicky eyes in all directions, frantically checking for Joker and his gang. As Dick searched futilely through the darkness, his heart began to race like a speeding car in his chest, which unfortunately, added to the throbbing pain in his head. Not to mention that he could feel himself on the edge of having a panic attack. Or on the verge of passing out, whichever came first. But in his current state, as he continued to look around in the dark night, he couldn't see anyone on the street. He didn't even hear any quick footsteps or a car engine roaring down the road, leading him to believe that no one was nearby to hurt or capture him.

 _Where_ _am I?_ He wondered, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. The teenager glanced up at the black sky, staring unblinkingly at the moon hanging above him, shivering and shaking the whole time before focusing his attention back in front of him. Deciding at the last minute that he wanted to look at the place that had become his temporary haven before he left, he slowly rotated around and looked forward.

At first, Dick didn't see anything that was interesting or eye catching in the alleyway. Not that he believed that he would find anything of remote value to him in such a filthy area, but he'd figured that something small would catch his attention. But no, the alley was just an ordinary lane, filled with trash thrown around on the dirt ground, wooden crates stacked up to make a perfect hiding space, cardboard boxes that were obviously used and torn up, a grubby flooring, and a sky-blue blanket lying against the opposite stone wall a few inches away from him.

 _Blanket? Holy oversight,_ the young crimefighter exclaimed in his head. _How could I miss seeing that? It was practically right under my nose. Granted, it is pretty dark out here with the only light source being the moon, and even that isn't very bright._ Slowly, with each painful step that was accompanied by the sound of metal jingling, brought Dick closer and closer to the blanket. For a normal person who wasn't injured, it would have only taken them a matter of seconds to reach the item. Yet for him, it took over a minute to cross to the other side of the alley due to his injuries, not to mention his feet were still chained together.

However, after almost two minutes of awkward walking, the hero finally managed to arrive at the spot where the blanket rested on the ground. As his stare landed on the material below, he pondered how on earth was he going to pick up the blanket in his condition since bending down would surely tear him in two. In fact, Dick could already feel the excruciating pain as it rushed through his form, separating and splitting his insides while lighting everything else on fire. So no, bending down to retrieve the cloth from the uncomfortable ground wasn't an option.

So how was he going to get the blanket? The teenager didn't recall noticing anything that could grab or pick up an item when he observed his surrounding a minute ago. Cardboard boxes were of no use to him since most of them appeared like they would collapse at the slightest weight, which meant he couldn't use them like a shovel. Unfortunately, if he couldn't come up with any other ideas than the only option left would be to get down on his knees.

After pondering for a few minutes and scanning the alleyway once more, Dick lowered his head in reluctance defeat and allowed a long, tired sigh to escaped from his mouth. No luck. He would have to lowered himself on his knees if he wanted the blanket.

Therefore, with the beneficial aid of adrenaline coursing through his veins, Dick gradually drop to his knees. As he was doing so, he clenched his teeth together because the hormone wasn't masking his pain entirely. It was still helpful, however, as the adolescent reached out a hand for the blanket while sharp licks of pain were dulled with adrenaline as it flowed through his system. When his fingers briefly touched the cloth before curling his digits around it to bring the sewn fabric closer to him, he allowed a self-rewarded cry of triumph to slip out between his hurt lips.

Using the same pace from earlier, the sidekick carefully raised himself into a standing position. Staggering forward as his entire physique trembled violently, it was clear that he wasn't steady on his feet yet. In fact, as minutes went by, he continued to be unstable, swaying dangerously from side-to-side in the moonlight as it cast its white light around his feet. Thankfully, he finally found his footing before the risk of falling on his face became too great as the winterly wind resumed its task of blowing its freezing breath over his quivering form.

The crimefighter took only a few short moments to glance at the blanket under the glow of the sphere before hurrying to wrap the soft material around his emaciated frame. Like the small, light green blanket, the blue one was found to be in a similar bad state. The fabric was little in size and shabby, frayed and tattered with age and lack of care. In addition, the fleece material was only large enough to cover his upper body and tops of his thighs, leaving the rest of him exposed to the elements. However, while the sewn cloth was warm and comfortable around him, the blanket was doing a poor job of protecting him from the chilly air. In fact, due to the torn state of the fabric, it allowed the bitter cold to slip past the blanket's weak defense and bite him several times in a matter of seconds. Still, the teen rather has some protection from the icy wind than none at all.

Knowing that he couldn't stay in the alley any longer unless he wanted to risk his poor health even more, Dick sighed wearily before pulling the light-weight blanket tighter around his figure. With one last look behind him, he turned his body towards his right and limped a couple of feet down the uneven sidewalk, the light of the moon the only illumination he had to guide him. _I really wish I had a watch._ _I know it's late since no one is up, but is it still early enough for Bruce to be out on patrol or late enough for him to be home?_

 _Which reminds me, where should I call first? Home?_ Dick pondered as he hobbled away from the alleyway. He didn't want to wake Aunt Harriet or Alfred up; yet, if he couldn't get into contact with Bruce, he would be forced to as a last resort. Should he try calling one of the Batphones lines before the manor; the one in the cave or Batmobile, in case his guardian was still up? The teen really didn't know, but he figured he would have to guess and hope he got ahold of someone. He didn't really want to speak to Aunt Harriet and be forced to come up with a good excuse for being out in the middle of the night, injured, and calling the manor for Bruce. But at this point and in the kind of condition he was currently in, he didn't care who answers, just that someone did. If it just so happens to be his aunt, he would take it. He just wanted someone to help him get to a hospital, to get his many injuries treated.

 _Hospital!_ Abruptly, the injured sidekick froze in his tracks as shock quickly made itself known, overwhelming and frightening him in a matter of seconds. _Hospital._ _I need a hospital!_ Normally if one or both of the Dynamic Duo acquired injuries while on duty, if it wasn't too severe or life-threatening, the crimefighters would be treated in the medical room in the cave by Alfred. Or Bruce, if he wasn't the one hurt. This time, however, Dick realized that getting treated in the Batcave wasn't an option this time around. His injuries were too serious and numerous to simply be patch up there. As much as he didn't want to, he knew that he had to go to a hospital, to get a… _shudder_ …rape kit done. So there would be evidence to convict Joker and his minions to a tighter jail cell for a very, very long time.

Dick knew what he had to do, but he was very reluctance to start what would be a long and difficult process for him. Sure, he had done research on many crimes that had been committed in the world, knew by memory the aftermath effects on the victims and people, the steps one had to take on all of them. Furthermore, he knew what treatment has to be done, the sometime long-term process, and the physical and psychological results that victims can experience. Sexual assault crimes being one of them.

With him being affected so personally and deeply now by being sexual assaulted, a type of crime he'd never ever imagined would happen in his young life, it didn't change anything on what the hero had studied on the uncomfortable topic. He remembered what steps he had to take. Heading to the hospital and reporting the crime, allowing doctors to obtain the necessary evidence then providing the police with his statement to jumpstart the legal process so that justice would be served.

But a part of Dick didn't want to be reasonable right now. He didn't want to go to a hospital and report the crime that was committed against him. He didn't want strangers touching him, no matter if it was strictly in the professional sense, to get treated and obtained evidence. He didn't want the citizens of Gotham City to see their young hero in such a state, so weak and vulnerable, after trying for so long and hard for six years to get the respect and trust he deserved in the field. The crimefighter knew it would ruin his image and reputation as a hero; the city would probably never take him serious again once they heard the news. Plus, he knew rape was still thought to be a crime against women and was heavily stigmatized with negative connotation.

All Dick really wanted right now was to get away from here, from the bad memories. He wanted a shower. To scrub every inch of his body with steamy, hot water, removing every trace of the filth he felt but couldn't see that was now on his skin. To curl up in a ball and sleep until this horrible nightmare was over and the memories were long forgotten.

But he knew he couldn't do those things. At least, not yet anyway. As much as the sidekick didn't want to, he had to be sensible about this. If he didn't get help, his injuries could get worse and possibly become life-threatening. Joker and his followers would get off scot-free of the crimes they'd committed towards him. Plus, not taking action against the cronies will make the teenager appear like he was frightened and ashamed. Well, he was ashamed and disgusted at himself, for allowing this too happened, but he didn't want the citizens and the criminals running around the city to know that. But all of his future plans would be pointless if he didn't find a payphone and fast. Because Dick didn't know how much longer he could go before he passed out from the pain. Then he would certainly die.

Luck must have been on the crimefighter's side tonight because he hadn't run into the Joker or his crew so far in his arduous journey, and now he could see a red payphone one block ahead. He had never been so relieved to see that simple phone stand sitting on the sidewalk in all of his life. It's truly amazed him how something so simple could be easily taken for granted until you don't have it anymore. Right then and there, Dick vowed to himself to never take anything in life for granted ever again.

Swallowing a lump that suddenly formed in the sidekick's throat, he limped the last several feet as fast as his injured body would allow him. When he was finally in touching distance, he carefully reached for the phone, being extra mindful of his dislocated right shoulder as he lifted that arm to grab the handset from its holder.

Dick would had like to pretend that the shaky hand was the result of the cold and in part, maybe it was. But truthfully, he was scared. The teen didn't know of what or why he was suddenly having this feeling. Just that he was now. Maybe the emotion was due to the fact that now he had a way to call for someone and didn't know what to say; to put it into words in order to explain the nightmarish experience he had gone through. Honestly, how does a person break the news to their guardian and family, who that person hasn't seen in a few weeks, that he is free, but have been tortured and raped multiple times? After all, it's not really a conversation starter or even a casual topic to discuss.

Putting the phone in his other hand, the one that was broken, Dick looked up at the machine's display, ready to dial one of the numbers he'd memorized by heart when he froze. How could he have so foolishly forgotten that he needed money to use the phone? How could something so simple slipped his mind?

He knew it wasn't his fault for missing that little detail. After all, the teenager had more concerning problems he needed to focus on than checking if he had money on him to make a phone call. Yet after all of this time spent looking for a phone and feeling relieved that this part of the nightmare was towards the end, his heart sank in his chest, taking his hope for help along with it.

 _Now_ _what do I do,_ Dick thought, frustrated that his only means to communicate was block by the simple request of a fee to operate. He could have made a collect call, allowing the charges to be placed on Bruce's telephone bill. And he would have, regardless of the fact that he wanted to pay for his own bills, because this situation was too serious to refuse making a phone call on the simple reason that someone else would have to pay his debt, even if it was only a few cents. No, the real reason the crimefighter wouldn't make a collect call was because he didn't have the option. Making collect calls had been out of style for a few years now with everyone preferring to pay their own bill when they made their calls.

So if he couldn't make a collect call and he didn't have money on him to use the phone the legal way, then how was he going to get in contact with his family? How was he going to get home? With no money to make a short phone call, his options were very limited when it came to travel since almost everything had a price. So taking a bus, cab, or train home was out since they wouldn't allow him to use their services without being paid first.

 _So now what?_ The hero asked himself as he pulled the blue blanket wrapped around him closer as another chilly blast of air hit him.

Dick was just about to place the phone back in its holder and try to come up with another plan when a small object in his peripheral vison sparkle, catching his eye. He set the phone down on a small, metal surface at the bottom of the box that protected the machine from the weather and turned to his left before lowering himself to the ground as far as he could. He was forced to bite hard on his lip again when the action resulted in more pain to shoot up his body.

Once he was close as he could get, the sidekick took a closer look at the item lying on the sidewalk. The light of the moon was still pointing at the object so it wasn't difficult to figure out what it was he was seeing. Money! He was seeing money on the ground! Three dimes. Thirty cents. He had money to make a phone call. A few, in fact since the price to use the phone was a dime for every ten minutes. Or Dick could make one phone call and be able to stay on the line for thirty minutes if he wanted to. But he didn't really care about that at the moment. His thoughts were all on the fact that he had money to use to make a phone call to Bruce. If he wasn't injured right now, he would surely jump up and down like a little kid in excitement.

Scooping up the three coins, the teen rose to his feet and took a step towards the phone. He picked up the phone from its resting place at the bottom of the box, looked around at his surroundings before inserted the first coin in the slot, dialing the number he knew by heart. As it began to ring, he leaned against the wall beside the phone stand while he waited patiently for someone to answer, knowing everyone would probably be asleep.

Dick felt a little guilty for taking someone's money as the phone rang for the third time. But like earlier when he was trying to find a way to call someone without money, it wasn't important to risk his life on. Yes, taking something, especially money, wasn't right. But when a person's life was on the line here, the lines for right and wrong sort of blurred a little. An individual does what he or she has to do in order to survive their situation. Right now just happens to be one of those times.

The phone rang for the sixth time. _Calm down, Dick,_ he ordered himself sternly as his breathing and heart rate picked up speed. He was starting to freak out, assuming that no one would answer the phone. Someone would though. He just had to stay calm and wait. _Slow your breathing. You won't be any use to whoever answers if you're hyperventilating. Slow your breathing down._

A few seconds later, the young crimefighter's breathing was slower. However, its rhythm hadn't change at all from the wheezing sound from earlier. But at least he wasn't going to passed out from panicking. Hopefully, the wheezing will halt once he receives treatment at the hospital.

The phone rang for the seventh time. _Come on! Pick up! Oh, please pick up!_ After having that thought however, the teenager slumped down to the hard concrete, no longer able to stand on his feet. His legs felt like they were on fire from the pain and were shaking too much to be safely standing on them. Plus, his stomach was hurting and felt like it would rebel once more, and he was dizzy…so dizzy.

Just as the phone rang for the eighth time, someone picked up the phone.

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 **A/N: Please give me your thoughts, opinions, or even some helpful feedback on this chapter. I will take anything helpful into consideration in order to improve my writing and myself as a writer. This chapter is unbeta right now.**


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